Hard Time Coming

by Cameron Burnell

************************************ Title: Hard Time Coming
Author: Cameron Burnell (camster@rock.com)
Series: DS9 - adult, slash, G/O
Rating: NC-17, m/m sex
Summary: The need to set things right, sets things in motion for the tailor and the constable.
************************************
This story belongs to me, but I've nicely borrowed from Paramount's lovely selection of wicked and wonderful boy toys. I put them back on the boring little shelf Paramount made for them when I was done and cleaned up my room so I don't want to hear from any of them about this story. Besides, if they did stories like this from time to time, then all of us wouldn't have to write them now would we? Besides...the boys look *much* happier now! I've rarely seen a Cardassian grinning. :))

Credit to the OdoGoddess for lots of editing. She didn't have to ride my ass this time to get it done -- this one wrote itself.

Cameron B.
************************************

(I don't know why but when I saw "The Die Is Cast" torture scene, this song kept going thru my head, which is why I used it)


When I needed soul survival
I called your name
When I was falling to pieces
I screamed in pain
A soothing hand then turned me round
A love surreal swept over me
We danced a little dance till it made me cry
Shake it like this, baby, do or die...

"Never Let Me Down"
David Bowie
************************************
Hard Time Coming
by Cameron Burnell

"So...morphogenic enzymes?"

"Hmph." The constable merely grunted, partly because he didn't feel like answering and partly because his mouth was full of sausage. He and Garak sat eating breakfast at the Replimat. Garak had been talking about recent events, Odo had been lightly scowling, definitely not enjoying the conversation, but the tailor was fascinated.

He, Odo, Sisko and Dax had actually relived a little of the Occupation years thanks to Odo's potent telepathic capabilities and a suspicious plasma cloud. The poor constable had been shamed and humbled by the experience, since it had put new light on a past incident. The captain and commander had been a bit shocked. Garak had been surprised, too, at the fact that Odo was still troubled about it. No one escaped the Occupation years unscathed. No one. He knew that better than most.

Worse, the poor constable had been deeply wounded by the withdrawal of Major Kira's affections. Sisko had demanded a full debriefing then suggested counseling; a truly pathetic Starfleet attitude, per Garak *and* Odo's way of thinking. Dax had offered solicitude, but she spent all her time with the huge Klingon oaf Starfleet had seen fit to foist on the station and could offer only token comfort. O'Brien was busy between worrying about the station and worrying about his child being carried by the fair-weather major not to mention the histrionics of his wife. His dear Julian was disappointingly distraught over Leeta's rejecting him for Rom and of no use to anyone but his patients, so Garak realized that left only him to minister to Odo's frame of mind, his crushed ego and fragile self-esteem. He had been eating meals with him for almost two weeks, trying to talk him out of his silent fretting state.

"Amazingly tenacious one's genetic structure. I've often wondered if the stronger the genetics, the stronger the species."

"Really?" Odo sounded as if he couldn't care less.

"Consider how all the Bajoran/Cardassian hybrids look more Cardassian than Bajoran."

"Hmm..."

"I mean...look at Ziyal."

"I wondered how long this conversation would take to get around to *her*," grumbled Odo.

Garak eyed him for a moment, then came to a decision. How far would Odo allow this to go? Would he appreciate a little good-natured teasing? Something to make him realize he was quite attractive and personable? "Really, constable, enough comments like that about her and I'll begin to think you're jealous."

"Hmph."

"Ziyal and I are Cardassian exiles both...and good friends. I've no interest in her beyond that of compatriot. Really, you've no reason to be jealous at all."

Blue eyes flashed at him. "Not funny, Garak."

"I wasn't trying to be, Odo. It hasn't escaped my notice you don't...care much for my discussing Ziyal at our breakfasts."

"Humanoid mating rituals...disgusting habits really."

"But you're humanoid now, aren't you? Well, aren't you?" he reiterated after Odo paused at this. To his amusement, the constable seemed a bit taken aback. It must be hard, Garak thought now, to know one thing all your life, then suddenly have to learn a new way of living. But still, he'd done so himself after his exile. For that matter, they were *both* exiled now, weren't they? To his surprise, this thought pleased him. He kept on teasing now, finding pleasure in trying to make Odo see what a fine and attractive specimen he was. He *was*, the tailor mused now, looking at the neat, trim shoulders of the uniform; a uniform he'd made with his own hands. His hands had touched those firm, human-warm shoulders lightly as he'd measured and clipped... Garak cleared his throat and went on.

"Ah, but isn't there a part of you that is curious, Odo? Isn't there a part of you that longs for answers to all those questions you no doubt have? Wouldn't you really like to enjoy the easy banter of the sexually experienced?"

The fork in the lean fingers clinked on the plate. "Clever, Garak. Trying to bait me to answer your own questions about my sexual experiences."

"Oh, those!" the tailor's fingers fluttered. "I was an operative in the Obsidian Order, Odo. You forget what I have access to. Secret military reports. Plots of Political intrigue. Scientific research findings--"

The blue eyes grew nakedly alarmed, and Garak's heart thumped with remorse at the look. __I dug too far, too fast.__

It took great effort for Odo's mouth to make the words. "Then you already have the answers and are just trying to bait me for nothing."

"No, I--"

"Our discussion...and this meal...is *over*, Garak. Good day." The long, lean beige form straightened and headed down the Promenade.

The tailor idly noted the drape of the uniform he had made himself, how it flowed and clung...especially to the trim, muscular buttocks that Odo now had. Before, he used to construct them from his protoplasm, now they were real...and very enticing.

To Garak's delight, the constable suddenly stooped to pick something up, a padd someone had dropped, outlining them even more. But he noted now there were two straps marring the clean line of his trousers just below the globes of his delectable buttocks. The constable was wearing a jock strap.

The Cardassian's face settled into a thoughtful frown as Odo straightened and continued on. When he'd come in to be fitted for his Bajoran uniform and a couple of off-duty outfits, he had worn the beige briefs all Bajoran officers wore under their clothes, delightfully forgoing the standard y-stretch sleeveless tank top. So why would the constable be wearing a jock strap now?

*****************************************************************************

All day Garak had kept an eye on the Promenade, hoping to catch sight of the constable, but without luck. He had made himself scarce.

Garak felt bad. He'd only been teasing him at breakfast, *guessing* really with his insinuation. He had no idea what went on with Odo at the research center, but obviously he had struck a sensitive nerve. Now...now Odo was mad at him and he felt bad. Worse, Odo probably was eating himself up inside thinking he knew what had happened at the research center. The look on his face had pierced the Cardassians heart. He'd never intended on causing such pain. What *had* happened at the research center? He tapped his station computer panel.

"Computer, relay personnel file for Odo, Chief of Security, DS9 to this terminal and encode to Garak alpha gamma two. Enable."

"Working."

He had never bothered researching the constable; he'd never had reason to. He had known him for as long as he was on the station, having been there himself. Now...

*****************************************************************************

Odo watched as the last of the delegates entered the airlock, then sealed it shut himself. He had posted himself on the Docking Ring for the day to avoid having to see the smug knowing face of Garak looking at him...or worse, *smiling* at him from his shop as he walked by...knowingly.

Thoughts of the research center filled him and he shoved back the thoughts of those times...of the experiments...of the...*viewings* he'd had to go through. And now...now Garak knew. A horrible feeling of humiliation swept over him.

After the recent shame he'd endured, the only thing that made it bearable was the fact that he no longer had to hide it, that he still had his job...and that Garak had been surprisingly impersonal about the incident, not discussing it once during the last couple weeks until that morning. He should have known all his solicitude and concern was just a front to get more information, not because he cared about him as a person.

Why was it everytime he allowed himself to believe someone cared about him as a person, they disappointed him? The precedent had started back with Mora...went on from there to what turned out to be *test* subjects designed to entice him into sexual activity in order to determine if he even *had* a sexual nature at first, and then to see what sort of preference that sexual nature took when it became glaringly clear that he did.

Brief images of faces...Cardassian...Bajoran...female...male...moments of contentment and seeming pleasure...and the sizzling humiliation in the discovery of his betrayal.

__Was I stupid or just young?__ There had been not just one or two, but several incidents, several *test* subjects. __Or was I hungry for something I've only recently started to seek on my own from those who I live here with now and who I trust? From these people who try to understand me?__ Which answer would satisfy him? Was there anyone he could ever connect with in that way?

Of course his first choice was Kira, but she truly loathed him now. Even if she didn't, she would no longer trust him and that precluded their friendship for now, much less anything deeper. Dax had shown her interest, but that was before the huge Klingon had come to plague DS9. Odo liked to think of her relationship with Worf as keeping the beast happy and out of the rest of their hair. It worked like a charm. Ever since they started their mating battle, Worf hadn't bothered him or anyone else on the station once. So long as she was happy. If, however, he ever saw a real bruise or a tear in her eye, Odo promised himself that Worf would discover exactly what it felt like to be exposed to outer space.

As for the rest, the Bajoran cafe owner had turned out to only be curious about him, something he despised. Bashir was far too young and a very boring conversationalist to boot. In his typically methodical investigator's manner, Odo did not automatically discount an option presented him. He knew of the homo-erotic pleasures...had found them interesting as a young and inexperienced Changeling. Now as a human man, they neither offended him, nor did he deny they were a possibility. Either way, Bashir was not a possibility. The captain was his commanding officer and very much gender-specific. The rest were too young, too old, married, spoken for, worked under him or were of Ferengi persuasion. That left Ziyal, the daughter of a man that made Odo's human skin crawl...and Garak.

From the time Garak had sought in desperation for a way to not continue torturing him under order of Enabran Tain, Odo had found him of interest as a person. He had been interested in him before that as a possible threat to the station, a Cardassian spy. But with that act, an act that had been a dangerous one for Garak to employ, Odo's interest had been piqued. More so when the Cardassian had neither told anyone about his shameful admission under torture nor held the information over his head in exchange for anything. This had earned him a second and a third look in Odo's book. A look hurt nothing after all. Now Odo was hurt to realise Garak was just curious, about him, too, it seemed. He had probably gotten hold of the recordings of one of the *research* sessions he had been subject to.

The thought was too awful for Odo to contemplate now. He felt small and deeply ashamed. He rounded the corner of the Docking Ring now and found himself face to face with the face he'd been avoiding. It wasn't smug though, although it was knowing. And was it a little sad, too? Odo gave him a reflexive scowl, hiding his embarrassment, and tacked on a gruff snarl for good measure.

"Excuse me."

He intended on going by him and making good his escape, but the tailor gently stopped him with a hand. It barely touched his chest to stop him, then was withdrawn as if he didn't want to subject the constable to his touch more than necessary. Odo could feel the heat of his touch; Cardassians preferred warmth and their bodies retained it. Obviously Garak had enjoyed a hot bath or perhaps a sunny holosuite program. His gaze narrowed.

"I don't plan on taking much of your time, Odo, but I would like to say something to you."

The constable frowned. He made a little shrug then. "Go on."

"In private, if you please." His eyes narrowed at this, but Garak's expression remained affable, no hint of amusement or derision. He finally nodded and gestured down the hall.

"We can use one of the VIP quarters off the crossover bridge."

"Fine."

The VIP quarters were as sumptuous as Garak remembered. The Cardassians had installed them for their visiting dignitary's and they were rarely used unless the station was at capacity. Odo unsealed the room with his authorization code and they stepped in to a by-gone era. An unused step-in tub was empty off to the side. A huge circular bed with hanging draperies lay abandoned to the other side. Thick carpet was beneath their feet and the stale smell of incense still wafted through the room.

"Splendid. I'd almost forgotten about these rooms."

"You wanted to say something to me in private. Say it."

"Yes, well...I wanted to apologize, Odo. What I insinuated this morning was an unforgivably harmful thing to say. I'd really no idea what was done to you at the research center and believe it or not, I never bothered to look it up and find out. Either way, I would hate for you to think I'm holding any sort of private knowledge about you over your head. Please rest assured it's not the case. I also would hate for you to avoid me or the enjoyable breakfasts we share. You are the best conversationalist I've yet to encounter, bar none. And the most pleasant dining companion."

Odo considered this. He didn't automatically believe Garak, of course, but conceded there might be some truth to what he said. The tailor couldn't keep that sort of knowledge to himself indefinitely if he was lying, he knew. Therefore, it was a good bet he was telling the truth, at least about not knowing that morning. Odo had little doubt he'd tried to access the information over the course of the day. Not that he would have met with any success, he knew. He finally nodded.

"All right. It may be that I'm sensitive to certain things in my past, just like anyone else might be. After I left this morning, I realized that and got mad at myself for letting you rile me." He sighed, drew his hand threw his thick hair, which fluffed it up a bit . It also, Garak realized with a swallow, made him look a little disheveled and a whole lot appealing. He felt a warm glow in the region of his groin, but ignored it.

"Well, I'm so glad you accept my apology."

"I don't. I accept your explanation, Garak. There's a difference."

Garak frowned. "But--"

__Play it out,__ Odo ordered himself. This was the only way to find out how much Garak really knew. It wouldn't take much, really. Besides, if he knew then his current banter wouldn't turn out to mean anything and if he didn't...

Odo suddenly realized that if he didn't, it would mean the tailor was a genuine friend...with the capacity for being more? He drew in a breath and began stacking the deck. He made his voice stretch a bit, added a teasing note to it.

"I didn't exactly find your innuendo about my *jealousy*, amusing."

"Oh," Garak brightened again. "But that was just teasing. I tease the people I'm fond of."

Odo's blue eyes were dark in the dim room. "Really?" His voice was rough and peculiar to Garak's ears. "How fond do you have to be of someone before you...tease them?"

The tailor felt as if he'd stepped from firm ground onto buckling ice. He wasn't sure of himself or his steps now. What was going on? What was Odo getting at? "How *fond*?"

The constable stepped closer, gaze intent. "It's a simple question. How fond do you have to be before you tease someone in a sexually suggestive way?"

Garak's stomach did a flip-flop. That warm glow returned full force. He could feel the steady warmth that Odo's human body sent his way and smelled the faint aroma of lavender soap he used. The blue gaze was dark and dangerous. It was a powerful combination of sensations and it made his cock swell enormously.

"I...I have a question of my own," the tailor managed to say.

Odo drew back a little. "Go on."

"Why have you started wearing a jock-strap?" It was the only question that came to his desperate mind, therefore the first out of his mouth.

To his surprise, the constable actually smiled, then chuckled. "Trust you to notice *that*."

Garak quickly seized on the topic. It was *much* safer ground. "It's just an odd affectation. Most of the men I know that wear them intend to get into a fight or are going to engage in a physically violent sport and desire protection. Now you...you avoid fights rather than get into them. And you only practice your self-defense program four times a week and you don't run other holosuite programs. I know; Quark grumbles about the fact all the time."

"Interesting." Odo smiled now and drew close again, stepping well into--and past--Garak's personal comfort zone. "And you can think of no other reason for a man to wear one?"

The tailor swallowed, hoping desperately those intense blue eyes didn't focus down, where his swollen cock pulsed with the rhythm of his heartbeat. He didn't want to offend Odo, he was a good friend. Nor did he want to give away one of his more precious secrets, which would also offend Odo, he believed.

"No." His voice was small and he forced himself to speak up. "I wouldn't have asked if I could."

"Fair enough." Odo drew back a little and Garak could breathe again. Then a warm human hand grasped the bulge in his trousers and all breathing ceased again. As did thinking. He blinked as that maddeningly teasing tone murmured, "Chief O'Brien explained to me how well a jock strap hides one of...these." A light, almost caressing squeeze. Garak squeaked.

"Ah!"

"I think I finally discovered a way to shut you up." That light, gruff, maddeningly *teasing* tone. A firmer, but gentle caressing touch.

"And is that what you want to do, Odo? Shut me up?" It was all the shaking Garak could think of saying. He managed to add in a dismissing tone that cost him a great deal, "Or are you searching for contraband?"

To his astonishment, Odo let him go immediately. A short bark of a laugh could be heard in the dark room as his hand--that hand that had just been warmly fondling him--swept through the crisp, well-behaved hair and ruined it's symmetry. "You really had no idea." He laughed again and this time it was a light, but genuine sound...and relieved. "I apologize for probably scaring the life from you, but still," that rich, dark voice grew warm and almost casual. "You deserve it for scaring the life out of me this morning."

"I did?" Garak did not know whether to be relieved or sorely disappointed.

"Don't mention my past to me again, Garak," warned Odo now, then he stepped close again and added, "and *I* won't mention yours."

The Cardassian nodded, still trembling from fear and arousal and filled now with disappointment and a frustrated tension. "Very well, constable." The term made it easier for him to concentrate. "I'll do that."

Odo turned to the door, but the tailor didn't follow. "Aren't you coming? I need to seal the room again?"

Garak shut his eyes with something akin to despair. "Really, Odo! Be decent enough to give me some time to...to gather myself."

The constable looked puzzled, then his expression cleared and he relaxed. "Oh, yes. Actually I forgot. I apologize."

"You *forgot*?" Garak's voice was another squeak of disturbed sound. This upset him deeply. What had Odo been doing? Toying with him? Why? He hadn't felt so humbled and ashamed in a long time.

__Forgot? He could feel the pulse of my heart as it thrummed for him in the palm of his hand and he *forgot*?__ To his shock, his eyes began to burn and he turned away, hiding both his conditions.

"It *is* why I changed my undergarment preferences," Odo reminded quietly.

Garak vented some of his frustration now. "So you walk around at ready all the time? Is that what you're telling me?"

"No, not *all* the time. Just a good deal of it. When something gives me a reason...or *someone*. I *am* human now, after all."

That rough, dark voice was by his shoulder and it seemed to go straight to the treacherous flesh beneath his trousers. His hard, pulsing cock would not soften on it's own now; it was up for the duration. He closed his eyes and managed to keep his voice even. "If you don't mind, I need to...alleviate this. Otherwise I'll never be able to step from this room."

"Funny, I read that Cardassians don't stimulate themselves manually." The constable sounded curious.

"We *don't*!" The words were harsh now as Garak's thin control ripped loose and he whipped around to face Odo. "Now please do me the courtesy of LEAVING ME ALONE!"

Odo seemed taken aback. "But..."

"NOW!" But the stunned and frowning constable merely stood there, a look of concern on his face and Garak gave up. His voice was rough with tearful frustration and shame. "Fine, watch if you like, damn you."

He reached for the gathers of his pants and released his aching, distended cock into a hand. The other reached just above it to grasp the normally vague bulge of leathery flesh where Cardassian's testicles were located. Garak's bulge was hugely swollen, the size of a golf ball. He closed his eyes tightly, both in anticipation of the coming sensation and to shut out Odo's shocked expression, then he compressed the bulge with his strong hand.

"Aah!"

A heavy spurt of clear fluid, thin and oily spat forth. Garak opened his eyes to inspect it. He cursed. __Once more...__ he duplicated his actions and this time, a thick, white, cheesy material gushed into his waiting hand. Almost instantly, his cock began to soften. More of the thin, oily fluid trickled out. As it joined with the other, it seemed to become translucent, jelly-like, a different substance altogether.

Elim could feel tears tracking down his face, but ignored them. He could walk outside again without pain or worrying about disgracing himself. *That* was what mattered. He opened his eyes, noted the fascinated expression on Odo's face and closed them again. __Now I have no secrets at all from this man.__

He managed to make his voice mocking and dry. "I trust your curiosity was satisfied."

Odo blinked. His expression was part horrified fascination and part something else the Cardassian could not fathom.

"That brought you no pleasure." It was not a question, it was an observation. He sounded surprised.

"If you read the books I assume you have," Garak sighed. "You would know that Cardassian males cannot obtain sexual pleasure manually. We can release, as you saw, and issue semen, followed by the more viscous sperm, but it doesn't provide gratification the way masturbation does for various other humanoids. Our bodies are designed to find pleasure only through the sexual act with another."

"You mean you need to--"

"My...organ...needs the stimulus of being surrounded by flesh. Cardassian women have a ring of muscle that surrounds the Cardassian males penis tightly and completely, it contracts and provides a sexual stimulation. The release of semen is typically accomplished with the contractions and the release of sperm occurs due to pressure against our testicular ridge, again usually obtained when with a partner, pressed against them during the act of coitus. Or as you just witnessed, by firm manual pressure." Brave, clinical words. They tasted like bile in his mouth and he realized with disgust he still held a palmful of his own cold seed. Abruptly fresh tears sprang to his eyes and he hurried to the bathroom before Odo could make any other comment or observation.

********************************** end of part one **********************************

Paramount owns the characters, I just fool around with them...or get them to fool around with each other. ***********************************

Hard Time Coming (c) by Cameron Burnell

part two

When Garak returned to the suite he was clean and dressed and his face wiped free of tear tracks. Odo sat on the bed, cast in shadow. He could tell, though, that the constable was gazing at him peculiarly. The tailor managed a thin smile.

"Well, I guess one could say it's been a learning experience." Odo nodded. Garak continued in a deceptively light tone, "See? You just learned how lucky you are, being Human, I mean. The Founders could have made you Cardassian." Odo nodded again, slowly and thoughtfully this time. Garak's tone dropped to one edged with a fraction of fearful uncertainty. "Really, constable, I do hope you won't hold this distasteful time against me?"

"Distasteful?" Odo seemed surprised at this.

"Well, you don't seem inclined to forgive and forget."

"I'm the one that needs forgiveness, Garak. If I hadn't been testing you all this wouldn't have been necessary." his voice was mildly reproachful, his head dipped down.

The tailor considered this, then shrugged. "I'm willing to forget all about it, constable, if you are."

The head shook. "No, I'm not."

Garak blinked. "But--"

"I would be willing to come to some...alternate...dealing, though."

"Alternate?"

"This little incident just proved to me we're both in similar circumstances. Perhaps they'll change in the future, but the future is long and uncertain, I've learned that if nothing else. And it makes precious little sense to squander opportunities."

Garak blinked again, tried to weigh Odo's words. What exactly was he saying? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Really? You're usually the one being obscure. I'd have thought you'd recognize it."

"Obscure? About..." suddenly his mouth fell open and a wave of heat washed over him. Did he mean--? "Odo, are you talking about us...us--"

"Engaging in a relationship? Yes. A *sexual* relationship? Yes, quite probably."

"Sexual?" Garak's throat was very dry.

"Possibly," Odo corrected carefully.

"Possibly?"

"It depends," that rough, dark voice grazed the intimate dark like a caress. "It depends on the success of this next hour or this *night*." The head tilted up. Garak could not see his eyes, or even his features in the dimness, but he could hear the question, the *invitation* in the soft, emphatic whisper. "Together?"

Garak held his breath, waited for something, he wasn't quite sure what. Perhaps, a chuckle indicating this was all a joke, or maybe the sudden brightening of the room and a closetful of people rushing out yelling 'surprise!' in that odd Human custom, or perhaps waking from this odd dream, maybe even feeling Julian's hand shaking him alert in the Infirmary because he'd collapsed in his shop from a blood clot in his brain. Instead, the head in the shadows dipped back down. The rough voice coarsened to a regretful timbre.

"I should guess I'd know by now that my appearance precludes desire in most humanoids. Forget I said anything." He drew in a breath and began to stand.

"Hold on." Garak had no idea what else to say, but he knew one thing; Odo was dead wrong in his assumption. He moved to stand before the reseated constable. His own voice was dry, part command, part plea. "Touch me again."

The head dipped back and up. He could see the moist gleam from otherwise unseen eyes. They never left his face as the hand reached over and gently rested on his aching, throbbing cock. The gleam suspended for a startled blink.

"You're aroused."

"Yes," the tailor husked, feeling himself grow even larger under the warmth of that lean hand, as well as from the truth that slipped from his lips. "By you."

The voice was rapt and tested the words for falsehood. "By me..." The hand shook with wonder. It was Garak's undoing.

"Odo--"

That hand didn't budge as his object of desire stood, straightened. A touch of that delightfully dry and teasing tone slipped back into his husky and wonderful voice.

"I'd say the night proves to be more intriguing than I first imagined."

*****************************************************************************

The dark became a lush and comforting backdrop to a fevered enterprise. The long-unused room, a haven of wondrous pleasures. There were some needed adjustments, considering the participants.

"You won't let me ki...touch you." Odo's rough, passionate voice had quavered over the word 'kiss', then glossed it over; he'd been doing nothing *but* touching him. Garak understood. In fact, he trembled with fearful understanding.

"The skin of my face, my scales, are rough, abrasive. You're so soft. So smooth," his own voice trembled, as well, as his hands gently explored. "So wondrously smooth. *Lu'saakh'a*." The Cardassian term gave his lover pause.

"That means--"

"My smooth one." His mouth found an intriguing angle of jaw to delicately nibble, then suck. "I refuse...mmh...to call you 'nothing' in here."

"And what do *I* call *you*?" those warm and unselfish hands, exploring every ridge, seemingly fascinated by the scales and careful, so careful. Those hands had touched Cardassian flesh before. They knew where to press, where to use care, where gentleness brought pleasure, and they never ceased their roaming.

"Elim."

"You're swollen to bursting, Elim."

"A...a little of my semen could be useful right now."

"Yes, it would *smooth* the way." a dark chuckle, followed by a hissing sigh of satisfaction. "Yes, I want to feel this."

"Just...ah! Just a little, *saakh'a*."

"Do you want me to lay back or down?"

"If it's not too undignified for you, why don't you straddle me?"

"Logical."

A rapid, if awkward flurry of adjustment. "There...there...*saakh'a*!"

"Elim, this is...most peculiar. But *nice*."

"Oh, my proud smooth love." A memorable pause, full of soft expectant sound. "My apologies. I've been holding back from touching you; your skin is so soft and tender."

"I won't break."

"I'd hate to mar such excquisite perfection."

"How does this feel to you, Elim?"

"Joyous." A soft truth. "And most unexpected. Does this feel good, *lu'saakh'a*?"

A rapturous groan was swallowed up by a gasp as Garak bucked a little beneath him. "Wonderful. Keep doing that. And touch me *here*."

"Oh, yes. Lovely. So long, yet so slender."

"I'm still not sure if I can...penetrate you. My texts all say the Cardassian sphincter is very narrow."

"True, but I think we're a match. For now though, it doesn't preclude *some* pleasure. Like this--"

Another set of groans reached him in the dimness and Garak lost himself to pleasure...and pleasuring. His essence was already pulsating up and out. His lovers warm hand found his swelling and gently pressed, boosting him to orbit. His hand clenched around the firm, throbbing flesh he held and he felt it contract as he heard the astonished outcry. Thick, heated liquid shot forth onto his arm and scaly torso. It was a creamy emulsion, completely unlike his own oily semen, thick, heavy sperm or their jellied combination, nor was it plentiful, but the spasms he could feel relayed the intensity of the pleasure his touch wrought. He swallowed down tearful gratitude. Garak was not a selfish lover; it pleased him dearly to provide gratification.

Shuddering moments passed, then Odo slipped from him, ignoring his protest to press against him, atop him. "I like feeling you against me," he whispered a touch breathlessly.

"My belly scales and the ridges on my shoulders and chest; they can be quite abrasive."

"But I--"

"Let me bathe with sandsoap and oil my scales for our next encounter. I promise it will be much more pleasurable."

"Elim." Mildly chiding. "This *was* pleasurable."

"For me too, *saakh'a*. I'm glad I didn't hurt you."

"No."

"Next time, my pleasure will come from pleasuring you."

A silence. "That brings up the question of when *is* our next time?" The constable's voice again, a demanding interrogative. Elim smiled.

"For you, whenever you ask. For me, I fear, my dear smooth love, that I am what Chief O'Brien once referred to as 'high and dry' for a few days."

"How so?"

"It takes three rotations, about 56 hours, for a Cardassian male to replenish his gametic material. If I'm less *greedy* in future, it can be parceled out more often. But I'm not opposed to twice or three times a week if you'd prefer."

A long and shadowed silence. A heated and feathery touch. Those warm lips, small smooth teeth, firm fingers finding and feeling the texture and line of his facial ridges. His cock throbbed emptily, a dull ache. He moaned. He pulled back.

"*Saakh'a*."

"I've never known it like this, much less considered a schedule, but I suppose I'm a creature of habit. A schedule sounds good to me." Elim almost heard, as well as saw, the smile in his voice. "Reliable. Comforting even."

"And in between? I know Humans feel the need more often and more unpredictably."

"Maybe breakfast in your quarters from time to time?"

"Euphemistically spoken."

"Euphemism, hell! I plan on eating."

"And sating other needs, perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

Soft sibilance from supple scales and stroking flesh. "I'd love to feel *this* inside me, *lu'saakh'a*."

An indrawn breath. "Inside you?"

"Deep inside me."

A short pause and tremulous inquiry. "Now?"

"We could try."

Pleased and tempered eagerness. "Guide me."

"I would ask of you what you asked of me. Do you want me to lay back or down?"

"What *does* your back feel like, Elim?"

Garak rolled over without a protest, presented his broad, scaly back as he drew his knees and rump up. "How do you find it, *lu'saakh'a*?"

Lean hands gave firm and invigorating strokes along leathery prominences and bony ridges. One found it's way to the small and proffered depression where a slender opening lay. It was warm and very moist and inviting. Having been granted, permission was not sought. A throbbing length of firm and heated flesh slowly pressed its way inside, past the compact opening, filling the heretofore unexplored void.

"*Lu'saakh'a*!" Despite himself, Garak bucked, then forced himself to be as still as possible. His exhilarated lover did not seem to mind.

Odo had barely began to thrust when a low growl sounded from him, an outcry from the belly, out the back of his throat past gritted teeth into the darkness and stillness, even as the thick, heated cream poured from him and into his lover. This was followed by a rasp of agonized need.

"Elim..."

His name. Garak's eyes shut tight on the knowledge that made them sting. He could not remember when he'd last heard his name in this way. He didn't know how much he longed for this. To hear his given name spoken with passion, with yearning.

A breathless inquiry followed up this passionate declaration. "Did I...did I *hurt* you, Elim?"

The aching tailor shook his head, unable to speak. He knew it was fruitless; the dimness negated his lover's comprehension. Then a warm hand sought his face. The lean fingers paused at the sensation of dampness. Odo slid from him then, his voice lowered to fear and remorse. "I *did* hurt you."

"No. No."

"You're crying."

"I'm...gratified," he corrected softly. He gently rolled over and lay back. His warm and pliant bulk was an enticement, his arms an open invitation that his newfound lover accepted.

The night's passage was slow, but inexorable.

*****************************************************************************

"Well, good morning, constable!"

"Good morning, doctor." Blue eyes met dark hazel ones briefly before looking back down at a steaming raktajino and a small, half-eaten loaf of warm, fruit-encrusted bread.

"So where's Garak this morning? You usually breakfast together."

"I'm sure he's just running late."

"Good morning, doctor. Constable." The dark head nodded at them both.

"Ah, Garak." "Garak." A joint response.

"I was just asking where you were."

"Well, it's nice to hear my company is sought after."

Bashir smiled. "I wondered if you'd care to attend the Shakespearean recitation tomorrow evening? I know how fond you are of literature."

"Perhaps another time, Julian. I do believe I have other plans."

Odo's head lifted at this. "Really? Not Ziyal again, I hope?"

Bashir frowned. "Honestly, Garak, that girl is going to get you into serious trouble."

"Never fear, dear doctor. I'm sure the constable will come to my rescue if any trouble should arise."

Blue eyes assessed him before looking smugly back to his breakfast. "I wouldn't be so sure of that Garak. I'd watch myself around that girl. Like father, like daughter."

"Yes, well, she's a friend, gentlemen. A friend and nothing more."

"Hmph." Bashir did not quantify his response, merely got up to get himself some coffee and breakfast from the replicator by the far wall.

After he left, two pairs of blue eyes met. Their gazes held for a fraction of an instant, then gentled. A shy smile graced two pairs of very different lips. Odo spoke first.

"Tomorrow evening? Isn't that a little soon? For you, that is," he clarified.

"As I said -- for you, whenever you ask. As for me, tomorrow evening is...favorable."

Odo swigged the last of his raktajino and stood. "Then I'll see you tomorrow evening." He turned on his booted heel and stepped off to his office.

Blue-grey eyes watched his tall confidence and a momentary regret filled them. The memory of the night before erased the regret though and a bright, cheery smile greeted the returning Bashir.

"So tell me all about this recital I'll have to miss, doctor."

"It's a literary lover's dream, Garak. The only thing better would be--"

"Sex?" The tailor's voice was lightly teasing.

"Garak." A scolding, half-amused rebuttal.

"Well, you did break up with Leeta, did you not? This could be transference."

"Hardly. Besides, *I* have a date for the recital."

"That's wonderful, doctor. You're a fast mover."

"The early bird catches the worm."

"More Human sayings. Whyever would someone want to catch a slimy worm when if one is patient and surreptitious one might catch something of far greater value?"

"Well, the early bird is sated and content and doesn't need to be searching I think is the motto."

"Really? I felt it was a warning to the worms."

"Garak!"

"Sounds like it to *me*. If I happened to be a worm, I'd definitely keep to a later schedule."

"Garak, you're incorrigible."

"Thank you, doctor. I *do* try."

- the end -

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